


the floor under our feet

by FoxGlade



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, F/F, F/M, Gen, the happy family au that no one asked for but everyone needs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxGlade/pseuds/FoxGlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Anakin laughed, loud over the phone. “My roommate just walked in a moment ago, he asked if I was talking to my girlfriend,” he explained to Obi-Wan. “Now I get to tell him that my 29 year old brother doesn’t know how to cook an omelette.”</i>
</p>
<p>or, the adventures and exploits of Qui-Gon's three adopted children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy international fanworks day, and happy valentines day for yesterday!
> 
> so a while back i made [this text post](http://gaybirdnerds.tumblr.com/post/137806035915/someday-im-gonna-write-a-happy-human-modern-star), and lo and behold, for once, i actually wrote something i said i would. all thanks and all blame goes to shena, who is MOST DEFINITELY at fault for me being as ridiculously into star wars as i am.
> 
> title is from Lakehouse, by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> i have a couple of other things planned for this 'verse (first and foremost, the scene w/ obi-wan at ahsoka's parent-teacher interview, which i had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT until re-finding the above text post), so i'm marking this fic as incomplete, but i have no idea when the next part will be published. enjoy the indulgent modern au!!

There is something about the snow that seems to silence the house, muffling all noise under a blanket of white.

Obi-Wan isn’t sure what wakes him – a restless wiggle from Ahsoka, perhaps. But no, she’s calmly asleep, her tiny face squished against Qui-Gon’s chest. She’ll be turning four soon, Obi-Wan thinks hazily, still struggling his way to wakefulness. The thought of his younger sister turns slowly into a question on his younger brother; perhaps it was his absence that woke him. He’d gone to sleep with Anakin tucked against him, the boy calm for once after a peaceful night.

And it seems to be set for a peaceful morning. When he looks up, he sees Anakin sitting cross-legged on the window seat, staring out onto the street. Beyond him, Obi-Wan sees white flakes drifting slowly to the ground.

“Have you been awake long?” he asks, as softly as he can manage with a sleep-sore throat. Anakin shrugs, not taking his eye off the window.

Perhaps silence is best, then, Obi-Wan thinks, as he sits up and stretches, careful not to jostle Qui-Gon and Ahsoka, who seem to still be carelessly asleep. He pads towards the window seat and settles on the cushion next to Anakin, raising a hand automatically to ruffle his hair before stopping himself.

It’s only been two weeks since Anakin’s official adoption – of course, he’d been a member of the family for five years already, and living with them for the vast majority of that time, but the official adoption had come on the heels of Shmi’s death. There had been… difficulties. To be expected, of course, but Obi-Wan found himself treading cautiously around Anakin anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was make some action that set Anakin off.

Instead, he mimicked Anakin’s cross-legged pose and watched the snowflakes fall.

It couldn’t be any later than 6am, and was most likely closer to 5. The streetlamps were still on, at least, and the muted orange haze seemed strange in the poorly filtered light of pre-dawn. Already a light carpet of snow was covering the neighbourhood, making it seem, if not picturesque, then perhaps new. It was always like that; every year, the snow came and made an entirely different world out of the home Obi-Wan had known for six years.

“Mom got mad whenever I went in the snow without gloves,” Anakin murmurs. When Obi-Wan looks at him, his eyes are dry, but his voice wobbles slightly. “They’re too small now. She’ll be mad.”

It’s a new and strange world for all of them, Obi-Wan thinks, and he gently grabs Anakin around the waist, lifting him up and settling him in his lap instead. “We’ll get you a new pair,” he says as Anakin curls back against his chest. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Anakin.

Soon Qui-Gon will wake up, or perhaps Ahsoka will wake him first. They might put on music, or move around in the peaceful silence. Obi-Wan will pretend to be swayed by Ahsoka’s demand for pancakes, and he’ll let Anakin attempt to flip them in the pan while Qui-Gon checks on his prized plants that clutter the front stoop. They might have a snowball fight, or bake something, or simply lie out in the snow. As the day draws on, they could build a blanket fort on the mattress and read to Ahsoka, and fall asleep secure in the warmth of their home, unaffected by the chill outside.

Any possibility is theirs, but for now, Obi-Wan holds Anakin and watches the snow fall. A strange new world indeed.

\---

Qui-Gon had always been naturally adept at handling children – all sorts of small, helpless life forms, to be honest. From childhood to the very week before he’d stormed out of the family home for good, he’d been bringing home all sorts of creatures, nursing them secretly in his room (or, later, defiantly in the kitchen).

So it was only mildly surprising when Qui-Gon arrived at the home for Thanksgiving towing a small, spiky-haired child behind him.

“Father,” Qui-Gon announced, making no attempt to remove the child currently clinging to his leg. “This is Obi-Wan. He’ll be living with me from now on.”

It could be worse, Dooku reasoned as they ate their meal in slightly cool silence. Obi-Wan, at thirteen, was soft-spoken but obviously intelligent, if somewhat lacking in culture. An adequate addition to the family, if nothing else.

A less pleasant surprise came three years later, when Qui-Gon strolled up the garden path with Obi-Wan keeping steady pace behind him and another child, much smaller than Obi-Wan had been, balanced on his hip and clinging to his neck.

“Grandfather,” Obi-Wan murmured respectfully, “it is good to see you.”

“Am I correct in assuming I am a grandfather yet again?” Dooku asked dryly. Qui-Gon hitched the child slightly higher on his hip and smiled in the calm, neutral manner that seemed to be the only thing Dooku had managed to instil in him. Blast the man.

“Not officially, no,” he said. “Father, this is Anakin. He’s staying with us.” And that was all he would say on the subject.

It was halfway through dinner before Dooku finally saw the child’s face clearly; the pleasant conversation had lifted his eyes from where they’d been fixed on his plate. By his dark skin and his disarray of dark blonde hair, Dooku had been expecting eyes of matching darkness, but the gaze that met his for a moment before glancing away was startlingly bright blue. He didn’t speak except to whisper occasionally into Obi-Wan’s ear, and his fidgeting was kept to a minimum, and so, Dooku thought reluctantly, it could be worse.

He held onto that thought when, another three years later, the party once again made their way up the garden path. Obi-Wan had grown slightly; or perhaps he just seemed taller because of the fussing child he held in his arms. He was still much shorter than Qui-Gon, who was carrying a giggling Anakin on his shoulders. For the first time in some time, Obi-Wan greeted Dooku not with a polite murmur, but a distracted voice saying “Could you hold her for a moment please, I’m sorry Grandfather, I have her toy in my bag, she’s fussing over it.”

It had been… quite some time since he’d last held a child. Certainly not since Qui-Gon himself was young; he and Obi-Wan had shared a cordial relationship since they’d met, and Anakin had been far too wary of him to ever want to be held. The child in his arms sniffed loudly, then shook her head, springing curls waving wildly. She reached out with one chubby hand and grabbed his jacket lapel, looking at it intently.

“This is your grandfather, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon said quietly, stepping closer to them. He reached up and lifted Anakin from his shoulders, handing him off to Obi-Wan just as the boy held out the girl’s toy. They swapped with an ease that spoke of long practice. “Ahsoka, will you say hello?”

“Hi,” the girl mumbled. Dooku was, despite himself, slightly charmed.

“Hello, my dear,” he answered gently. It could be worse, he told himself, and for the first time, the thought was flavoured not with resignation, but pride.

\---

“Will you ever marry Tahl?” Obi-Wan asks one night over dinner. He doesn’t seem dismayed by the possibility, or overly excited. Qui-Gon laughs anyway.

“No, it isn’t likely,” he says. Obi-Wan looks at him expectantly, but Qui-Gon doesn’t feel the need to elaborate, so he says nothing more.

At sixteen, Obi-Wan is a better son than Qui-Gon could have hoped for; the boy has the ability to know exactly what he’s needed to be, and then settle himself into that role with no fuss whatsoever. He’s a quiet achiever in school, a helpful hand around the house, and specifically, an enthusiastic caretaker for Anakin, who at times needs more than Qui-Gon feels he can give. Obi-Wan seems to enjoy nothing more than to watch over Anakin as he tinkers with his models and small electronics, or settle him down from whatever energetic venture he wishes to go on, or simply sit with him and help him read the short books that are his weekly homework.

 “I do not wish to deprive you of a childhood that has already been sorely lacking, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says one night after Anakin had been put to bed. Obi-Wan looked at him with puzzlement in his eyes. “I don’t wish for you to feel… obliged,” Qui-Gon continued, “to care for Anakin as you do. To act as a parent, when you’re still a child yourself.”

Obi-Wan was listening with a growing fondness, and he shook his head before Qui-Gon had finished speaking. “That isn’t how I see it,” he said, his ears turning slightly red. “Anakin is… sweet. I don’t teach him new things, or read to him, or- or any of those things, for any reason other than I want to.”

“And that’s admirable,” Qui-Gon assured him. “I only hope that, in addition to this, you also have the time for other activities that teenagers enjoy. Parties, dates and the like.”

Ah. That had been a topic Obi-Wan had been more than happy to avoid. “I don’t really see the appeal,” he murmured.

“Indeed?” Qui-Gon said, thoughtful. “You needn’t project any sort of false image, Obi-Wan, you are more than free to attend parties if you wish. And I hope I’ve always made it known that I’ll support you no matter your choice in romantic partners.”

The refreshing bluntness that Qui-Gon wielded in conversation was, at most times, a blessing to Obi-Wan, but this time it made him wince. “I… haven’t felt the urge to pursue any sort of romance,” he said slowly. Then, with a steeling of his jaw, he continued, “And I rather suspect that I never will.”

It had been something he’d always known, at some level, from his distaste for the way children at the orphanage would discuss potential romantic futures, to the disquieting unease he’d felt at the prospect of someone, someday, finding _him_ to be a candidate for a romantic partner.  It had taken him until only recently to think that maybe, perhaps, he wasn’t alone in feeling that way – and a quick internet search to confirm it.

Qui-Gon was still watching him thoughtfully. “Hmm,” he hummed eventually, and then smiled, and something in Obi-Wan relaxed. “Thank you, for trusting me enough to say so,” he said. Then, still smiling, he grasped Obi-Wan by the shoulder and pulled him into a hug. He was tall enough that, even with Obi-Wan’s latest growth spurt (which, admittedly, wasn’t that much), he could still easily rest his chin on top of the boy’s head. As he’d taken to doing lately, Qui-Gon couldn’t help but wonder how many more times he’d get to hold Obi-Wan like this.

They separated, and although Obi-Wan’s eyes were dry, he did swallow conspicuously before speaking. “Thank you,” he said, and he didn’t need to specify what for. Qui-Gon merely patted his shoulder and smiled.

Then, “If you won’t be going on dates, then perhaps you can go out with friends more often. You can’t be doing homework and taking care of Anakin constantly, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said, laughing a little. “If you’re forcing me to go on outings, Quinlan invited me to see a movie this Friday. Some sort of horror film that he couldn’t possibly see alone, or so he says.”

“I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have guessed that as your ideal outing,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

“His date blew him off when he’d already bought tickets,” he said. “Unfortunately, I was too soft-hearted to turn him down.”

“Your compassion serves you well,” Qui-Gon replied, then ruffled his hair, a signifier that the conversation had drawn to a close. Obi-Wan leant back against the kitchen counter and watched him move about the living room, picking up the various debris that Anakin spread around seemingly without any effort.

“Anakin should be asleep by now,” he said. “I’ll turn in as well. Goodnight, Father.”

“Goodnight to you too, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon called. There was nothing especially affectionate in the way he glanced over and smiled in farewell, but Obi-Wan found himself warmed all the same.

\---

The first notice Qui-Gon received of the oncoming storm was the resigned look on Obi-Wan’s face as Anakin hauled him into the house by the hand.

“… and her hair is _so pretty_ , I asked her how she made it all loopy like that and she laughed and she said her Dad does it, I wonder if Qui-Gon can make my hair like that? Or his own hair! But it wouldn’t look as pretty on him,” Anakin said, matter-of-fact. Qui-Gon smothered a laugh at the solemn nod Obi-Wan gave the boy.

“Anakin, I have to put my things away, but I’ll be back in a moment,” he said. “How about you tell Qui-Gon about your day? He’d love to hear it.” Blast him.

“Okay!” Anakin said brightly, then let go of Obi-Wan’s hand only to latch himself onto Qui-Gon’s leg. “Hi, Qui-Gon,” he said, and then continued with barely a pause, “A new girl was in our class today and her name is Padmé, and she’s from _India_ , she said she moves around heaps and she’s only staying her for a while but we’re already friends and I love her, and we’re going to get married.”

Qui-Gon blinked slowly. “Ah,” he said eventually. “And when will you be getting married?”

Anakin rolled his eyes, of course. “I dunno, when we’re old, like Obi-Wan,” he said, the ‘ _obviously_ ’ implicit in his tone.

“Obviously,” Qui-Gon replied. Well, if it made the boy happy…

And it did. From the few times Padmé came over to their house for schoolwork or for playdates, she seemed to be a genuinely nice girl, who cared greatly for Anakin – certainly enough to bolster his spirits in the scant months after his mother’s death.

Of course, Anakin fell back into his old moods the moment Padmé left for Europe, but he seemed to have some of his old energy back nonetheless. Qui-Gon watched as Anakin pored over a letter he had declared was to be sent to Padmé, smiling at the look of fierce concentration on his face. He hitched Ahsoka a little higher in his arms and considered their good fortune – after all, two steps forward and only one step back was progress, no matter how small.

\---

The soup that was to be his dinner was just coming to boil when Obi-Wan’s phone rang. He picked it up distractedly, prodding at the off-coloured liquid with a ladle and murmuring his name in greeting.

“OBI-WAN!” his brother yelled in his ear. Startled, he jerked back, fumbling with the phone and narrowly avoiding dropping it in the pot.

“Anakin, I didn’t think you were serious about calling me every day,” he complained. He and the rest of the family had helped Anakin move into the dormitories at MIT only yesterday, before parting ways once more – Qui-Gon and Ahsoka back to the family home in Maryland, Obi-Wan to his significantly closer apartment in Brooklyn.

“Obi-Wan, she’s here! Padmé is here, she’s here! I talked to her!” That certainly got his attention.

“What? Anakin, how did you-?”

“The clubs are doing sign-ons, she was at the tent for the Debate Club! I talked to her, she remembered me!” Even across a phone line, Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was running a hand through his hair, as he always did when he was excited, or agitated, or angry, or generally overwhelmed.

“Calm down, little one,” he said, with sympathy and amusement. Anakin huffed at the nickname. “I’m happy for you, Anakin. Did you, ah… hit it off?”

A snort of laughter. “No need to sound so aro about it,” he said. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as Anakin continued, “She said she’d see me at the club meetings.”

“Wait, you signed up for the Debate Team?” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “ _Really_ , Anakin?”

“What?” Anakin said indignantly. “I can debate! I love debating!”

“You love _arguing_ , Anakin, it’s hardly the same-”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Anakin interrupted. “That’s all I wanted to tell you, if you hate talking to me so much.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded. A hiss from the stove alerted him to the fact that his soup was bubbling over, and he cursed distractedly, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “Hold on, Anakin, I want to hear about everything, my food is-” He poked at the now-simmering soup with the ladle and sighed. “Most likely inedible. Blast.”

“Dad always wonders how you manage to eat anything, with your talent for cooking,” Anakin said, thankfully sounding amused now. At least his ineptitude was good for something.

“With many takeaway menus, that’s how,” Obi-Wan muttered. “And I don’t care if you call me every day, Anakin, you know I always want to hear from you – I simply assume that soon, you’ll be far too busy with schoolwork and friends to even remember your older brother.”

“Don’t talk like that, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied, and despite how deep his voice had gotten over the years, for a moment Obi-Wan could hear the sweet young boy his brother once was. Well, he could certainly still be sweet when it suited him. “I’ll be hearing your voice in my head every day, nagging me to stop messing around and focus on study.” Or not.

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. He opened the fridge and stared into its empty depths, wondering if he could scrape a nutritious dinner together from slightly wrinkled cherry tomatoes and a few eggs. “I’m glad that at least some part of you acknowledges my wisdom.”

“A very small part,” Anakin said reassuringly. “One I won’t be listening to, of course.”

“Of course. Say, Anakin, you wouldn’t be able to walk me through the making of an omelette, would you?”

There was a squeak and a rustle of clothing; most likely Anakin had just thrown himself backwards onto his bed, as he was prone to do. “You don’t even know how to make an omelette?” he said incredulously. There was an indistinct voice in the background, and then Anakin laughed, loud and unexpected. “My roommate just walked in a moment ago, he asked if I was talking to my girlfriend,” he explained. “Now I get to tell him that my 29 year old brother doesn’t know how to cook one of the most basic meals there is.”

“Yes, hilarious, the opinion of an unknown college freshman means _so_ much to me,” Obi-Wan replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure Ahsoka derives just as much pleasure telling everyone about how many times you’ve electrocuted yourself. Tell me, are we up to thirteen yet?”

“Do you want dinner tonight or not?” Anakin said, although he sounded more amused than annoyed. “Come on, tell me what I’m working with here.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said mildly. “There are tomatoes, and I think some of the mould in the fridge may still have cheese attached to it…”

\---

 _Technically_ , Anakin wasn’t supposed to tinker with electronics in the living room, on account of his apparent habit of leaving tiny gears and wires strewn about the place – a claim which he’d deny, of course, he valued his technology too much to do something like that, thank you, Obi-Wan. In any case, he was perched in a corner of the battered couch, staring intently into the circuitry of a discarded Roomba, when Ahsoka tucked her chin over the back of the couch next to his head and asked, “Could you teach me Arabic?”

He flinched, accidentally hooking the tiny screwdriver in his hands under a catch. With a muttered curse, he freed it and glanced up. “What?” he said, then frowned. “I thought you didn’t want to learn Arabic,” he complained. “You said it was boring.”

Ahsoka sighed, turning around so she could lie upside against the back of the couch, braids spilling across the cushions. “It is,” she agreed. “But, it’d be useful, y’know? You guys all know it; sometimes I feel left out, when you and Obi-Wan talk in it.” She pouted and looked up at him sadly. “I just wanna connect more to you guys.”

Anakin said, “There’s a girl you want to impress, isn’t there.”

Ahsoka flailed a little, falling off the back off the couch with a thump. “No way!” she said indignantly. “I can’t believe you’d think that, Anakin, when all I want is to be closer to my family…” Anakin was looking at her in disbelief. “Okay, so there’s this girl,” she said instead. Anakin shook his head in despair.

“Last time you did this, you joined the chess club and ended up throwing a timer at someone,” he said.

“This is different!” Ahsoka insisted. “She’s really nice, I promise, and she told me today that she wishes she knew more people who speak Arabic, since she speaks it at home with her mom all the time. So, really, I’m not trying to _impress_ her…”

“But you do like her,” Anakin said. Ahsoka fell back against the couch cushions with a sigh. “Poor Snips,” he laughed, and tugged on one of her braids. She batted away his hand half-heartedly. “What’s her name, then?”

“Barriss,” she said wistfully. She sat up and asked, “So are you gonna teach me? I wasn’t just making stuff up, I do feel left out sometimes, and it’d be really cool to know what you and Obi-Wan are talking about all the time-”

“Maybe I shouldn’t teach you, then,” Anakin interrupted, then laughed and ducked as she swung a pillow at him. “Fine, fine! But you really should ask Qui-Gon, or Obi-Wan. I learnt it when I was a baby – they’d be way better at teaching.”

“You’ll let me practice on you, though?” Ahsoka asked.

“Of course, Snips,” Anakin said, and they grinned at each other for a moment. And then he reached out to tug on her braids again, only to be smacked solidly in the face with a pillow. He went down with a muffled laugh, helplessly raising his hands to ward off Ahsoka’s extended beatdown. After a few moments, a calm voice drifted out from the kitchen.

“Try not to kill each other before Tahl gets here,” Qui-Gon said, with no little amusement.

“Sorry, Dad,” the pair on the couch chorused, before breaking out into laughter again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks!! i forgot to add this when i first published, but this fic draws a lot of inspiration (and headcanons) from the amazing fic [stop me if you've heard this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3971869), by snicklefritz, which i recommend HIGHLY. i apologise for any bits and pieces i may have stolen, with or without intent.
> 
> this chapter is short and a little clunky, due to the fact that my laptop, affectionately named Anakin, has thoroughly betrayed me by way of overheating any time i try to use it. i'll be attempting to fix it soon!! but it may be a while. thought a small update would be better than nothing though!! 
> 
> \--also, small pedantic note; their home state as mentioned in the previous chapter has been changed from west virginia to maryland. enjoy!!

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Obi-Wan called out to Qui-Gon. He grabbed his house keys from the dish at the front door and then looked down at Ahsoka, balanced on his hip. “I don’t think there’s room for you on Quin’s bike,” he told her with a small smile. She folded her arms, just as she’d seen him do many times before.

“Good,” she said. “That means you can’t go.”

Obi-Wan just laughed, then kissed her on the forehead and placed her down on the floor. “Or simply that you cannot go with me,” he replied. “I’ll be back before you know it, young one.” He waved, and then he was out the door. She scrambled to the living room, climbing up on the window seat to watch as her oldest brother caught the helmet that was tossed towards him by the boy on the motorbike. They seemed to talk for a moment before Obi-Wan climbed onto the back of the bike and hugged the boy around the waist. There was a loud, angry sound, and then the bike shot off down the street.

“It’s really cool,” she heard Anakin say before he clambered up onto the window seat next to her. “Qui-Gon says, if I really want, I’ll get to ride one, some day.”

“It looks really fast,” Ahsoka agreed. Anakin loved fast things.

-

Anakin loved fast things, and Anakin loved to build and tinker and take apart and fix up. This was useful when Ahsoka’s Tamagotchi started making weird noises and turning off at the worst times – it was less cool when she slept through her first period pop quiz because Qui-Gon was away and Anakin had stolen half of her alarm clock after she went to bed.

But now, sitting on the workbench in the garage and watching Anakin run his hands over the carcass of a motorcycle, she was definitely leaning towards it being decidedly _fun_.

“It’s missing about half its parts, but what it’s got is really good!” Anakin said, half to himself. “I’ll need to fix up a bunch of it, though.” He paused, then looked back at her. “Wanna help me with some of it?”

At the respective ages of ten and fifteen, Ahsoka and Anakin had passed through the gauntlet of being bitter sibling rivals, and had tentatively reached a place of familial support and, at times, genuine friendship. “I don’t know a lot about engines and stuff,” she said, but slipped off the bench and wandered over anyway. “Except some stuff you’ve told me before.”

“Then I’ll teach you more stuff,” Anakin said firmly. He seemed excited about the prospect, and Ahsoka felt an answering spark of enthusiasm. When he’d told her about engines before, he’d been mostly talking to himself, but she’d listened to every word. If he was offering to tell her more, a chance to really understand how to build and fix things that ran…

“Okay,” she answered, and Anakin’s grin was brilliant as he hauled the engine over and began to talk.

-

The garage that Anakin spent half his time in was crowded despite the high ceiling, and the organised clutter reminiscent of their old home. Ahsoka pulled up in the yard outside, revving the engine of her bike one last time so that he could hear it from inside. Sure enough, ten seconds later, Anakin walked out of the garage, messing with his hair with one hand and holding a wrench in the other.

“If you wanna service, buddy, you gotta-” He stopped and, finally, registered what he was seeing. Ahsoka grinned and turned off the engine, swinging her legs of the bike and rushing over to meet him halfway for a hug. “Snips, what are you doing here?” he exclaimed as they embraced.

“It’s a long weekend, remember?” she said. “I knew you’d be busy with school stuff, so I thought I’d come up and see you.”

Anakin glanced over her shoulder. “And you wanted to show off your new bike,” he said with a grin.

“That too,” Ahsoka agreed. “But mostly the first thing!”

“Thanks, Snips,” he said warmly, flicking her shoulder before walking around her to admire the bike. “This is a good bike, Ahsoka.” He sounded almost surprised. “Guess I taught you well, huh?”

“Please,” she scoffed, “you can’t teach taste. This is all on me.”

“Sure, sure,” Anakin said. He ducked down to run a hand over the frame, then looked back up to meet her eyes with a smile. “It’s good to see you,” he added, quietly.

“It’s good to see you too,” she replied. After a moment, Anakin looked away and down at the ground, ruffling his hair.

“So,” he said, coughing slightly. “I have a 1992 Viper in the back that the boss is letting me handle. In pretty good shape, if you wanna have a look.”

“Sounds good,” Ahsoka replied, already pushing up the sleeves of her leather jacket. Anakin clapped her on the shoulder affectionately, and together they wandered into the garage.


End file.
